


Tempest

by Vyranai



Series: The Hawke and the Halla [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Blood Mage Hawke, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Purple Hawke, Romance, Smut, So much Hawke sass, fenris joins the inquisition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:18:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9962450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyranai/pseuds/Vyranai
Summary: Eyes a port in a storm and a smile as wicked as a blade, how was she supposed to resist the call of the deep when it came from a man like the Champion of Kirkwall? Hawke joins the Inquisition and Aevella Lavellan finds herself falling into the unknown with a man she's only read of.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So... yeah. Hawke and the Inquisitor, my new favorite ship. Smut begins after this chapter.

Aevella felt like a creep watching through the window in Sera's room, staring down below into the sparring ring where the two newcomers were practising. An elf and a blood mage.

“It's the glowy one you're perving on, righ'? He glows, you glow. Hawke makes you go boom though. Not good boom but bad boom. Red boom.” Sera cackled. “Elfy glows more than you, Quizzy.”

“Fenris isn't a mage, Sera. He had those lyrium bands put on him by his old master in Tevinter. At least, that's what Varric's book said. I don't dare ask him myself.” She'd read way too much about him to ask such a thing.

Sera lounged back, ankles crossed up against the wall. “Eh? Why would some dumbfuck do that?”

“A weapon,” Aevella muttered, frowning down at the elf. His tattoos shone bright and noticeable in the streaming sunlight, sweat dotting his body.

“Don't look like no weapon I've ever seen. Ey, I'll ask him-” and before Aevella could stop her, Sera rolled onto her feet and flung herself at the window, throwing it wide and yelling “Oi! Glowy elf! Where'd ya get your tats from? Quizzy here keeps ogling them.”

Aevella slapped a hand over her mouth as, distracted, Fenris twisted around and looked directly at them... and allowed Hawke to hit him straight around the head with the butt of his staff. They all watched, aghast, as the elf went down like a stone in a pond.

“Oh fuck!” Sera yelled, pulling back. “The glowy elf is done for!”

Cursing loudly in elven, Aevella threw herself from the room and down the stairs of the tavern, ignoring Sera's yells behind her. Fenris' temple was bloodied and his eyes closed when she skidded to a stop next to the ring, Hawke kneeling next to his friend.

And Hawke was laughing, staff lying next to him on the floor. “Oh Inquisitor,” he chuckled, pressing his hand to Fenris' forehead. “That was hilarious.”

Aevella's eyes were wide as she also joined him kneeling next to the elf. “Is he okay? I am going to murder Sera, don't worry.” She glowered up at the window where the woman was watching in howling fits of laughter with her face pressed against the glass. “Very painfully. Corkscrews may be on the table.”

Hawke nodded, removing his hand. “Oh, we've been through worse. Much worse than this little knock on the head. I just can't believe he went down so easily! Ha!” He clapped Aevella on the shoulder. “Thank you – Varric now owes me ten gold. He bet that I couldn't beat him without magic. Traitor.”

A soft groan sounded and Aevella looked down, concern etched on her face as Fenris came around, raising a hand to his temple. “Fasta vass-!” he swore, gritting his teeth.

Aevella moved away a fraction, harbouring no desire to be anywhere near him if he was in any way angry. Especially at her. “Ser Fenris, ir abelas! Oh I am so sorry.”

“I am fine,” he grunted, pulling himself up into a sitting position. Aevella frowned at the wide green eyes, for they seemed to be slightly unfocused. Concussion she had heard the healers call a strong blow to the head.

“No!” Aevella squeaked as he made to get up, placing a hand upon his knee. “I think you have concussion. Please don't move.”

With a glare, Fenris twisted his leg away from her hand. “Don't touch me.”

Hawke tittered. “The woman is concerned for you. Show some respect, Ser Grumpy. You may never get a woman asking that again.” He gave Fenris a pointed look when he made to get up again. “That was quite a blow, Fenris. We both know how strong I am.”

“So you like to believe.” Fenris didn't make to get up, but turned back to the Inquisitor with a face like thunder. “Here to get a closer look, Inquisitor?”

Aevella flushed. “No! It wasn't like that. You see, I read Varric's book knowing what a huge bullshitter he is and I was merely wondering if it was... well, the truth.”

“Why?” Fenris' eyes narrowed. “I will not be your attack dog against a darkspawn magister.”

Hawke groaned, punching Fenris in the shoulder. And none too gently either. “Seriously? The girl is just curious. She's not going to lick you like some lyrium lollipop in front of Skyhold. She read Varric's book.”

At that, Aevella could have died on the spot; she flushed a deep red, glaring at Hawke. “Forget I ever said anything. Enjoy your concussion.” She got up and turned away, walking back into Skyhold without so much as a glance back. His mannerisms, at least, were true enough.

 

“So I hear that you met Broody at last? Ran to his side like he was a damsel in distress. Would have loved to have seen his face when he came around and saw you hovering, his stalwart protector.”

Aevella pressed her forehead against the table; it smelt like Varric, like ink and parchment and leather. “He thought I wanted to use him like a weapon.”

Varric chuckled, setting down his quill. “I wouldn't worry. Being grumpy is just his way of being friendly.”

“It didn't feel very friendly. He hates me now, I'm sure of it. I've spent all week trying to think of a way to say hello to him, and then that happens...”

With a screeching of chair feet against the stone floor, Hawke appeared and threw himself into the chair beside Aevella. She had to blink twice, shocked at the sight of him out of his usual armor and in casual clothes of leather pants and a cream tunic. “I heard that and I am jealous that you talked to me straight away.”

Varric scoffed. “Because you never shut up, Garrett.”

“Excuse me, I can be as quiet as a mouse!” Hawke retorted indignantly, reaching for Varric's tankard; the dwarf moved it out of reach.

“Only when unconscious. You even talk in your sleep. You talk _dirty_ in your sleep.” Varric groaned in disgust, leaning back in his seat. “There are some things I never wanted to know about you, and you said them all while asleep.”

“Such as?”

“Not in front of the Inquisitor. She's innocent enough as it is.”

Aevella bristled at that, folding her arms upon the tabletop and looking up at the dwarf. “Excuse me? Innocent?”

Varric smirked. “I haven't heard you so much as make a crass joke, Aevella.”

“Well fuck you.”

Hawke's laughter echoed around the hall, turning many scowling heads; he threw his arm around Aevella's shoulder and pulled her close. “Varric, it's wrong to tease such a lovely little thing.”

Aevella raised an eyebrow at the Champion. “I am a Knight-Enchanter, Ser Hawke. I am far from lovely. If anything, I could take your head off in battle.”

A hand brushed her cheek and Hawke's eyes glinted playfully. “Is that a promise, Inquisitor? If you smack me down, will you come to my rescue as well? I assure you I'm much more friendly than Fenris. In every respect.”

From the other side of the table, Varric grunted in annoyance. “You get your hands off her, Hawke.”

“The Inquisitor issued a challenge, Varric. It would be incredibly rude of me not to take her up on it.”

Aevella smiled sweetly and gestured to the sparring ring outside. “Losers first, Ser Hawke.”

“Oh no! After _you_ , Lady Loser.”

Varric just rolled his eyes and put down his quill completely.

 

Hawke just stared in obvious shock, now clad in his usual armor along with the Inquisitor. “You... _want_ me to use blood magic against you-?”

Aevella nodded, no staff in her hands as she stepped into the ring. She didn't need a staff for what she had planned. “If I am going to use my spirit sword, you need something to equal me. I am not afraid of blood magic, Hawke. I trust you not to make my brain explode inside of my skull or make my blood congeal in my veins. Besides, I need the practice. I've gone up against a few blood mages before and it would be nice to know other ways to beat one other than frying them.”

“As you wish, but I think you are just a little bit insane, Inquisitor. Varric was definitely bullshitting when he called you innocent.” His curious blue eyes travelled to the small hilt in her hand. “A Knight-Enchanter? I've never faced one of them before. A spirit sword, did you say?”

Aevella nodded, calling on the blade of pure energy from the hilt. Hawke let loose a low whistle, stepping closer and poking the blade with a finger; it crackled to the touch, rippling from where his finger came into contact. “Is it wrong that I'm getting a little aroused right now? That is beautiful.”

“Please control your erection; I wouldn't want to cut it off by accident,” Aevella told him with a wide and innocent smile, taking a step back.

The blood mage stepped back also, a wide and dangerous grin appearing upon his face. Aevella felt her breathing catch at how feral, how beautiful Hawke was. How had he never found a lover in Kirkwall all those years was beyond her. “Ready Inquisitor?” he called, raising his blackened staff. “I won't go as easy on you as I did Fenris.”

“I wouldn't want you to.”

Hawke made the first move, shooting a bolt of lightning directly at her; Aevella caught it with her blade, using the energy of the lightning to power it up. When Hawke pulled back to throw another at her, Aevella reacted first and pushed the electrical pulse from the blade right back at him; he threw himself onto the floor to escape it just as Aevella pounced, spirit blade raised high.

With an explosion of swearing, Hawke rolled over and caught Aevella in the stomach with his booted foot, kicking her away into a heap. For a moment she lay there, winded, but then she heard the roar of flames as it came at her, narrowly missing her left ear. “Done already?” Hawke teased, twirling his staff.

Aevella shot a blast of ice at Hawke's right foot, cementing him to the ground; he swore as he tried to pull away, Aevella climbing to her feet and advancing on him. With a hard smack of his staff, his foot was free.

She was laughing. Actually laughing as they danced around each other, staff deflecting each blow of her spirit blade. Every ball of fire he sent her way she dodged with ease. It wasn't a match, Aevella soon realized, but a game. They were playing with each other. But a little later and the fight grew more than just simple play, sweat coating both their bodies as they fought and wrestled, ice flying and lightning hitting the side of the tavern wall. Any spectators had ran for cover, watching from a safe distance at the foolish and wild pair.

When her limbs ached and mana was almost spent, Aevella knew it was time to wrap things up. Drawing Hawke close, feinting an earlier move, he fell right into her trap and was knocked to the ground, spirit blade at his throat and staff out of reach.

“Do you submit?” Aevella whispered, voice a ragged pant as she leaned closer into his face.

Hawke grinned, blood in his teeth from where Aevella had caught his lip by accident with a stray punch. “You are simply marvellous.” He raised a hand and cupped her cheek; Aevella realized with surprise what he intended to do, but didn't shy away.

Only Hawke didn't kiss her; he flipped them over in one fluid movement, straddling her hips and pinning her hands above her head, hilt out of her fingers and useless. “Do _you_ submit, Inquisitor?”

She smiled at that, Hawke's own grin infectious. “You didn't use blood magic,” Aevella accused.

With a raised eyebrow, the Champion leaned down and said into her ear, quiet so that no spectators could hear him, “I wouldn't like to bleed all over your sheets tonight.”

“You're very confident, aren't you Hawke?” Her body felt exceptionally warm. Especially the parts that were pressed up against his muscled and solid form.

“Call me Garrett. Only my enemies or Fenris or Varric call me Hawke.”

 

Fenris raised an eyebrow, watching the pair alongside Varric. From the top steps, the view of the battle was unobstructed. “Hawke seems... rather taken with her.”

“Taken? He looks like he's about to fuck her right there.” Varric frowned very slightly. “I'm worried, Broody; I love Hawke and all, but he is not the romantic sort, and Aevella deserves more than a quick whirlwind romance which ends with him leaving her heartbroken.”

“He may not do it this time.”

Varric scoffed, taking a swig from the tankard next to him. “And nugs might fly. I don't know what to do!”

As Fenris observed the pair, now locked in a passionate embrace upon the floor of the sparring circle, he could only feel that Varric had to decide soon whether or not to interfere. For the Inquisitor's sake.

**Author's Note:**

> Halamshiral next! Hawke at the Winter Palace... Hold onto your pants, kids.


End file.
